Legacy of Damnation
by Lord22
Summary: Dark times have come to Lordaeron. The King is dead, and the undead rampage freely. Yet amongst all this, Arthas Menethil, Champion of the Scourge dares not remove the veil before his eyes, nor let his enemies know his true identity. AU.
1. The Betrayal

**Legacy of Damnation:**

**Chapter One:**

A great fanfare had engulfed the Capital City of Lordaeron, for Prince Arthas had returned triumphant from Northrend, where he had slain the demon responsible for Lordaerons woes in single combat. Even now he marched through thr streets, the rune blade Frostmourne at his side shining pale in the sunlight of new dawn, while his long blonde hair flowing from underneath the dark hood that covered his face.

Cheers came from the crowds as he entered the city, and rose petals were thrown from buildings as he walked through the streets. The people observed his arrival with enthusiasm that had not been seen since the end of the Second War.

Some strange force was at work that day, for such was the greeting that none questioned why he should travel into Lordaeron city with only two soldiers, when an army had followed him to Northrend.

None wondered why those guards were cloaked and hooded, and clad in black rather than the colors of the royal guard. None wondered why their armor was adorned with the insignia of skulls.

Instead they merely shrugged it off, and welcomed their Prince home.

Arthas however, was not so enthusiastic about this spectacle. To be welcomed back with such a display did not sit right with him. He would have preferred a more direct approach.

Yet he had his part to play in this grand scheme, and the power he served would not tolerate failure.

That would soon change

He glanced downward at the blade at his side, which he had sacrificed so much for. Mal'ganis was dead thanks to it. He had gotten his revenge.

Yet at what cost?

Suddenly his gaze fell upon a single rose petal, falling before his face.

He stopped for a moment, catching it in one gloved hand, and looking upon it, and for the first time he became aware of the jubilant crowds above him. Strange that he had not noticed them before.

His gaze turned upwards towards them. They were happy, unaware of his true agenda.

Yet wasn't _this_ what he had always wanted. His people safe, his name known as a hero. Had thisnot been his goal. Could he truly throw this away so easily...

Then his gaze turned back to the petal in his hand.

It had blackened and withered in his hand. Just as this land that he had so treasured would whither and ? He did not know. For what cause? The sword did not answer.

Yet the will of the Lich King was absolute, and it was not his place to disobey him. So the whispers of Frostmourne spoke. He crushed it with his thumb and for finger before letting it fall to the ground. There was no turning back.

He marched onwards.

The rest of the journey blurred in his vision, until at last he came before the great double doors which led to the throne room of the Castle, the very heart of Lordaeron.

He flung the doors open, and marching in, his heavy booted footsteps echoing within the mighty hall.

It was as beautiful as ever, with a marble tiled floor and long blue tapstries. He had been within this room countless times, and aided his father with the affairs of court here.

He now stood before his father, King Terenas II of Lordaeron.

The King of Lordaeron looked far older than his true age, for the years of stress had robbed him of his youth early. Yet his father looked upon him with pride and the whispers of Frostmourne could not quell the doubts he felt entirely.

Ignoring them. He drew Frostmourne, and kneeled before the King, planting his sword before him. For a moment he stood there, kneeling in a picture solemn respect.

His father stood, a slight smile upon his face. "Ah, my son." he said, with pride in his voice. "I knew you would be victorious."

The whispers of the blade increased, and he knew that the time had come.

Yet he hesitated. What he was about to do was against everything he had been taught. Why did he listen to the whispers of the blade. What was the value of this act…

The whispers returned in force, and he trembled under their strength. The world seemed to blue, and though he saw his father speaking, he did not hear the words.

He was shaking visibly now, and he was dimly aware that his father had taken note of it, and was putting one hand upon his shoulder in concern…

He must not…

He had to…

His defenses fell, and he rose, his hood falling from his head to reveal his pale features. King Terenas stepped back in surprise.

"My son, what-" he began.

Yet he did not finish.

With a roar of rage, and grief, Arthas Menethil stood, his eyes blazing with blue fire, and drove Frostmourne into his fathers heart.

King Terenas looked down upon the blade that had killed him, then back at his son.

"…Why…" said the King of Lordaeron gasped.

Arthas did not answer, and merely slid the blade out and turne.

King Terenas fell backward, his crown shattering upon the floor.

The Death Knights who had accompanied Arthas rushed to and attacked the confused guards, striking with unholy strength, and speed. And the sounds of celebration quickly turned to terror.

He could have made a speech, he could have spoken of a new order, or declared the fall of Lordaeron. Yet instead he merely pulled his hood back over his head and turned join the fray.

There was no turning back now. All that remained now was death, and the dealing of it.

Cloaked in black, his face concealed, Arthas carved a swath through the living, striking down all who barred his path.

None who saw him lived. The capital city burned. And the undead spread across the land of Lordaeron, killing any who did not flee.

Hours later, when the sounds of battle had subsided, he stood atop one of the battlements of the city, flanked by undead warriors, and surveyed what he had wrought, the ruin of a Kingdom, and the end of thousands of innocent lives.

He put one hand to his face, and suddenly realized that he was crying.

Though what he felt grief for he could not say…

**End of Chapter**

So yeah, you'll probably notice a number of differences in Arthas' character. I have a plan continue this into a full AU if people like this, though it will likely take a while.

I tried to get inside Arthas' head and examine what the early stages of possessing Frostmourne might have been like.

Honestly this is probably the darkest thing I've ever written. If you notice any differences between quality in this and Bolvar's folly, it is because I actually put work into stories like this. Bolvar's folly, along for most of my other stories, are more for fun.

Please review, and if you have read my other story, Shadow of the Dark Portal, tell me which you preferred.


	2. Trudging through the Ashes

**Legacy of Damnation:**

**Chapter Two:**

_ …And so King Terenas fell, struck down by the Messiah that had been promised to us by our God, and as his crown shattered, so too did our enemies shatter. And they fell before the might of the scourge like wheat to a scythe._

_ And our Lord walked amidst our enemies, hooded and veiled, striking them down in silence, and bringing strength to the scourge wherever he went. And when his victory over the forces of light was complete he became known to all as 'the Veiled King', and our enemies fled before him._

_ Yet he was cunning as well as strong, for he sent forth messages to all the Captains of our enemies, bearing the seal of the Menethil Line. And in these letters he wrote of the greatness of the army that descended upon the them, and commanded them to flee west to Kalimdor, where they might find sanctuary from this menace._

_ And our enemies felt cold fear when they read these words, and they fled from the scourge, leaving many villages defenseless…_

_ -__**from The Cult of Undead: Saga of the Veiled King. **_

Arthas Menethil rode through the night, his dark cloak flying behind him, his dark veil drawn over his face. All was deathly silent in the newly created plague lands, save for the sound of skeletal hooves, beating upon the blackened ground. Above him, dead tree's loomed, withered and blackened, their leaves lining the ground. He remembered that it was fall, and that they would have been a brilliant orange, before the Scourge came to Lordaeron.

Now it was utterly dead. Strange how one got used to such things.

He glanced back at the force behind him, three hundred black clad death Knights, mounted upon skeletal steeds like his own. They were the greatest of his warriors, wearing full battle armor, and carrying rune blades, though none as powerful as the one he wielded.

He turned his eyes back to the path they rode upon, and road onwards.

His campaign in Lordaeron had yet to meet any true resistance, since his destruction of Lordaeron city. This had been by design, as he had sent forth a number of letters to the surrounding garrisons, detailing protocol in case of another undead invasion.

Among them, had been orders to pull back to Dalaran in the event of the fall of the Capital, and several letters sent before his attack had arranged for supplies to be laid out for an expidition to Kalimdor.

With any luck, the majority of those capable of fighting him would have left by the time he reached Dalaran. Central Lordaeron was now his, and his armies had already begun to prepare for the next stage of the war. Whatever that might turn out to be.

He now spent his considerable spare time, dealing with the various villages who had not abandoned Lordaeron.

They rode onwards, faster than any normal unit of horsemen could ever hope to move, their horses never tiring or slowing as beat a path across the blackened plains.

And then saw it, a village, surrounded by a palisade and situated upon a large hill. It looked to have been expanded recently, for a shanty town had sprung up around it recently.

He turned to his chief Lieutenant, a Death Knight of Medium height, with a gray beard, and short hair.

"Falric." Arthas said in a cold baritone. "Take half the men, and drive the refugee's towards my forces, we will surround, and capture them before out assault."

"Very well" said Falric "Still… I believe that we should consider the possibility of encountering Paladins."

"Paladins?" said Arthas "They are all in Harthglen with Uther, they couldn't have gotten back here so fast. You worry too much, my friend."

"And you don't worry enough. My Lord." replied Falric bluntly "I have to make up the difference somehow."

Arthas laughed "Fair enough." he said "Still, even if there are Paladin's, our objective is the same." he glanced at the town, and his tone darkened "Should we encounter them, I will deal with them myself."

"…I see." said Falric after a moment "As you wish, My Lord." And with those word he turned to break off from the column, taking with him a hundred and fifty Death Knights.

Without any spoken word, the Death Knights followed Falric, riding around to the other side refugee camp. Arthas smiled bitterly to himself, Falric had been with him since before he had taken up Frostmourne, and now he served Arthas as the chief of his Death Knights.

Odd how some friendships could withstand even death.

He turned to his men. "And you, my Death Knights, ride with me, let none escape us!"

And he drew Frostmourne, and rode forth towards the town.

Those within looked up in fear at their approach. "It's the Veiled King!" yelled one in terror "Run!" And with that they fled, those few who stood their ground were cut down quickly, and those who ran had their path blocked by Falric's forces from the other direction, and they were driven back and encircled by the Death Knights.

They stood there, in stock terror, and Arthas sighed. He glanced over at Falric.

"Captain, secure these prisoners, and raise the corpses."

"Yes sir." said Falric "With your permission, I would also like to send a force to the graveyards, for shock troops."

Arthas considered this. "Very well." he said after a moment. "In the meantime, I will begin negotiations."

And with that, her turned his horse round, riding towards the gate personally, with only a small force of skeletons with him.

"People of Vandermar!" he called forth "I am the Veiled King, Champion of the Scourge, and Master of Lordaeron!" he called forth, his voice reaching clearly over the whole town. "The old order has passed, and now your only hope of survival lies with the new! I give you this one chance to surrender, and swear fealty to the scourge. Do so, and you will be spared! Refuse, and many of you will die before this day ends! Either way you shall serve in my army!"

A heavy set, bearded man appeared atop the gatehouse. He wore leather armor, and carried a massive axe in both hands.

"You have come a long way to die. Veiled King." he replied, his voice angry.

Arthas laughed, and the sound echoed throughout the camp. "I am afraid we are past the point where that is a plausible outcome, why should you expect victory here. You are outnumbered, and with every death on your side, my forces will grow stronger."

"Stout walls may hold back a far great tide!" the man shot back.

"Stout walls may make all the difference in the world." replied Arthas "But that pitiful palisade of yours will not even slow our attack!"

"You may bluster all you want!" called the man "You will not seize this town without a battle!"

"So be it!" called Arthas, before raising Frostmourne to the air.

"Forward!"

And as a wave, the undead that had been raised moved forward, Arthas rushing forward at the head of the line.

Arrows were loosed, and fell amidst them, and many of the undead fell, yet Arthas remained unscathed and reached the gate, before delivering one powerful blow to it's heavy oaken frame.

It splintered, and cracked as Frostmoure connected, shattering from the force of the blow!

A wave of fear overtook the gate guards as Arthas rode in, the undead army streaming behind him, slashing their way into the militia who stood before them. The battle was quick and bloody. Many undead fell to the axes and spears of the militia, yet their formation was destroyed, and were torn apart by ghouls.

Arthas ran a man through, pulled his blade out, and decapitated another. Several arrows landed around him, and he glanced over the archers had begun to fire downward upon the scourge. He wheeled his horse round, and fought his way through the fray, grinning madly as he did so.

Turning his horse round, he hacked his way through the battle, threw himself from his horse and began to climb the steps up to the gatehouse. One of the militia sought to bar his path, yet Arthas cut the man in half with a single blow, and continued his ascent.

The man who had so brazenly taunted him before leapt down from the wall, bringing his axe down in a two handed strike, but Arthas caught the mans arm, and ran him through, before hurling him from the wall. The man landed with a crack and lay still.

The archers saw him too late, and he leapt forward, laying about him with his sword. Dozens fell to his blade, and Frostmourne gleamed in joy as he moved along the wall, cutting his way through the dozens of enemies! Blood ran in rivers.

Then at last there came a time when he found he had nothing left to fight, and he turned to look over the battle. Things had more or less concluded with the arrival of the Death Knights, and the survivors from the main town were even now being rounded up, and placed with the other prisoners.

Arthas turned back to look upon the carnage he had wrought, and felt a mild distaste at the bloodshed in front of him. There were faces amongst the group who barely looked eighteen. And then Frostmourne gleamed and he felt nothing once more.

He turned away, and climbed down the steps, stepping over the bodies until he spotted Falric, busy raising the undead. Already some hundred were raised.

"Falric!" he called. "I see you have been busy."

Falric glanced over, and smiled pleasantly "Not as much as you, from the looks of things, My King."

Arthas glanced down to realize that his armor was covered in blood.

"Fair enough." he said "Did you have any trouble?"

"Of course not." replied Falric. "It was utter folly for them to even consider resisting us. I don't know why they even bothered."

"Spite, I suspect." said Arthas, approaching his chief Death Knight them "In any case give the survivors the standard terms."

"Join the cult, or join the infantry." said Falric, in a bored tone.

"Correct." said Arthas.

"As you wish, Milord." said Falric. "Oh, and though you might want to know that I have received word from Deathbringer Marwynn. He reports that he has 'recruited' a large number of the villages. They have been initiated into the cult, or raised into undeath."

"Excellent." said Arthas, with a grim smile. "Then soon we will be able to move onwards with the plan. Assuming of course that the Lich King will actually give us orders before the world ends in fire."

"With all due respect my Lord." said Falric lightly "Isn't that our job."

"Is it?" said Arthas with a shrug. "I don't know, and frankly I don't really care much. We do as the Lich King commands either way. Why bother with the why."

"That doesn't not seem like you at all, my King." said Falric, his tone slightly concerned.

"It doesn't does it." said Arthas with an unreadable voice. "And yet I don't give a damn, Falric. I don't care about much anymore. It's… disconcerting is all."

"…I suppose." said Falric after a moment. "I myself have felt odd. I've killed men I've known for years, and felt nothing. I wonder why."

"I don't know." said Arthas "But either way I-"

And then suddenly he turned to see a green portal appearing. Arthas readied Frostmourne as a figure stepped through it.

It was a tall demon, with black horns, and great bat like wings. His skin was pale, and he carried himself proudly.

Arthas' eyes widened as he saw him "Mal'ganis!" he snarled in rage as he moved forward, Frostmourne raised. "I don't know how you survived, but I will-"

"Calm yourself, young King." came the demon, and Arthas paused, for it's voice was deeper, and older than the Dreadlord he had fought before. "I am Tichondrius. Like Mal'ganis, I am a Dreadlord, but I am not your enemy. In fact I have come to congratulate you."

"Congratulate me?" said Arthas, slightly incredulous. For a moment, he considered killing this demon. Yet the voices within Frostmourne spoke, telling him to calm himself.

Arthas sheathed Frostmourne, begrudgingly.

"By killing your own father." said Tichondrius "And delivering this land to the scourge, you have passed your first test." said Tichondrius.

"Save your flattery for someone who cares." said Arthas "Get to the point."

Tichondrius narrowed his eyes, but he did not comment. "I am here to give you the Lich Kings orders." he said.

"Finally." said Arthas. "Where too next. I hear Quel'thalas is nice this time of year, perhaps we could pay the elves of Silvermoon a visit."

"We will deal with them later." said Tichondrius, with a slight smile. "For now you must move your army west, to Anderhal. And recover the remains of Kel'thuzad. The necromancer who created the plague of undeath."

"Kel'thuzad?" said Arthas in surprise, his eyes widening. "Why should you want his aid."

"Surely you do not think that the burning of Lordaeron was our end game." said the Demon "Kel'thuzad has proven himself an valuable asset to the scourge, and his magic will be needed once more."

"…That sounds simple enough." said Arthas. "Though I wonder how he will react to my presence, after all, I was the one who killed him."

"'Believe me." said Tichondrius "Your past will not be a matter of concern."

"Oh really?" said Arthas "Well if my most hated enemies superior tell me he won't hold a grudge, then I suppose it must be true."

Tichondrius ignored him "Make haste Death Knight, for our master does not tolerate failure."

With that the Dreadlord opened the portal and left.

"…Kel'thuzad now." said Falric "And to think, after all the trouble we went to kill him, we have to bring him back."

"…It doesn't matter." said Arthas in a resigned tone, before turning to return to the camp.

**End Chapter Two**

Well, it's done. Chapter two, at last. In this chapter I hope to correct one of the many, many, screw ups in Arthas: Rise of the Lich King.

See, Captain Falric was the only character I felt was well done in the book, and his interaction with Arthas was one of the more interesting parts. Falric provided a down to earth look at things. The way he exited the story was annoying, and completely anticlimactic.

As such, I wanted to arrange a way by which I could keep Falric as a character in this story.

The good guys will likely appear next chapter. And before you ask, no, they do not know about Arthas' betrayal. Anyone who saw him without his veil is dead. Falric of course, knows, but he's too loyal to betray Arthas.

You may notice some mood whiplash in this. This is intentional. Oh, and please review, this thing is tough to write


	3. Ghosts of the past

**Legacy of Damnation:**

**Chapter Two:**

The tree's of Anderhal had turned to bright orange and yellow with the coming of fall. And though the blight had spread far across the Northern part of the region, the effort of the Silver hand had allowed life to survive in the region.

Arthas did not like the trees, they were too bright, too colorful, and they irritated his eyes to looked upon. Even as his army of undead marched down the cobbled, leaf strewn paths, he considered having the them razed. Only the knowledge that it would be an entirely pointless waste of time stayed his hand.

And time was a neccesity. Lord Uther Lightbringer had taken more or less direct control of Lordaeron's remaining forces, and his spies had informed him that the Paladin's had already begun to root out the remaining members of the cult of the Damned in Anderhal.

This was not unexpected, Uther was an excellent war leader, despite his age. And his sources said that the old Paladin had sworn to kill the Veiled King with his own hands.

"Something wrong, sir." said Falric's voice behind him, as he rode up to where Arthas was.

"Oh, my apologies." said Arthas "I was merely thinking about how I will deal with Uther, when at last I encounter him."

"Really sir?" said Falric, raising an eyebrow "I rather assumed you'd just stab him."

Arthas didn't laugh "Somehow I doubt that shall be a feasible plan. Uther is arguably the most powerful Paladin in the world, and I have no intenton of directly confronting him, if I can avoid it."

"I see." said Falric "Still, you will likely have to kill him before we reach our goal, whatever it is."

"I am well aware." said Arthas, his voice strange. "Any suggestions."

"Well..." said Falric, considering this "Pesonally, I would swarm him with undead until they wear him down, and kill him."

Arthas laughed "That would rather anticlimactic."

"With all due respect sir, a battle is climactic if there is a significant possibility of failure." argued Falric "Any tactician worth his salt will aim for an anticlimactic victory."

"...Are you qouting something?" asked Arthas.

"No, it's just a personal philosophy of mine." admitted Falric "Is that Marwynn up ahead?"

Arthas looked forward to see a black haired Death Knight approaching. He was thinner than Falric, with long white hair in a similar style to Arthas' though admittedly shorter. He had black eyes, and carried a long spear in on hand, while his runeblade was sheathed at his side.

"Captain Marwynn!" called Arthas "What news do you bring."

Marwynn reached Arthas' position, holstering his spear over one shoulder, and smirking.

"Just as you thought milord." said Marwynn "The Paladins have prepared for our coming. Still, it's only two companies. In all honestly, I'm fairly certain that the three of us could take them on ourselves."

Falric sighed "Marwynn, your capicity to overestimate your chances astounds even me."

"Thank you, sir." said Marwynn.

"That wasn't a-" began Falric.

"Moving on." said Arthas, cutting him off "What are their defenses like?"

"Nothing worth a damn from what I saw." said Marwynn "They likely only just got there, to be honest. Now what is our plan of attack!" his voice was bloodthirsty, and Arthas sighed, before turning to Falric.

"What are your thoughts, Captain."

"Lord Uther probably sent them to ensure that no one brings back Kel'thuzad." replied Falric "I can't think of any other reason why he would bother."

"Whatever the reason, we'll have to deal with them." said Arthas ruefully "I was rather hoping we could just walk in and bring him back, to be perfectly honest."

"Oh come now sir." said Falric dryly "You speak as though actually expected us to have decent luck."

"Hoping, not expecting." replied Arthas with a sardonic laugh. "I've been around long enough to know that the only good luck I've had thus far is finding Frostmourne."

"Yeah, yeah." said Marwynn "Can we kill them now."

"No." said Arthas with a sigh "You know my policy on such matters."

"What?" replied Marwynn in annoyance "But no one ever surrenders."

"It's the principle of the thing." said Falric with a sigh. "As Death Knights, we don't have very many principles, but those we **do **have, we stick to."

"Fine." said Marwynn "But, when they refuse, I want to kill their leader."

"That is **not** your call, Captain!" said Falric in annoyance "You can hardly expect the King to-"

"Fine." said Arthas.

"...What." said Falric in surprise.

"Well, looks like someone just got overruled." said Marwynn with a triumphant smirk.

"**If **I get a chance to arrange it, Matwynn." said Arthas "Then yes, I'll let you fight him, but no promises."

"Yes! Finally some action!" said Marwynn. "I will not fail you, my King!"

"I know you won't." said Arthas "Now then, I figure I shall try a differant strategy to get them to give up, so let's go, I want to get this over with by lunch."

"We don't eat, sir." pointed out Falric.

"It's a figure of speech." replied Arthas in annoyance.

"...Actually it really isn't." said Marwynn "I may have grown up in Harthglen, but I **did** get an education, and I'm pretty sure-"

Falric face palmed "Marwynn new orders, just for you."

"Yes." asked Marwynn.

"Shut up."

...

Half an hour later, the forces of undeath arrived before the Graveyard. It was large, with many stone graves upon it. Around it, there were signs of blight, seemingly coming from the graves themselves.

More importantly, a large force of armored soldiers had formed ranks before it. They stood there, heavily armed, with a myriad of differant weapons, all if which were quite deadly.

Arthas' undead numbered several hundred more than his enemies, of course, and so the advantage of numbers was on their side.

Arthas tightened the veil around his face, and rode forward upon his skeletal horse, carrying a white banner of parley in one hand.

He was the Veiled King once more, and as such would take on the persona of a boastful, and deadly King.

"I am the Veiled King!" he called forth in a cold, and rasping voice "Master of Lordaeron, and Champion of the Scourge!" he called, his voice cold, and unrecognizable from where it had been "Is there any amongst this rabble with authority to treat wit me!"

"I will." came a deep and loud voice, and from the crowd a black bearded man appeared. He was a huge, bear of a man, with black hair, and carried a massive hammer, that marked him as one of the Paladins of the Silver hand.

"I am Gavinrad." said the man "I lead these men, by the authority of King Terenas and Lord Uther Lightbringer."

"Ah." came the Veiled King rasping reply "You are one of the first Paladins. Your defeat will weaken the Paladin order's power then."

Gavinrad remained stoic "If you have come to demand our surrender, then you are wasting your time." his voice was a low baritone, and held scorn within it.

The Veiled King chuckled "Demand your surrender?" he said "No, I am merely here to collect the body of a fallen comrade. My only concern is the fact that your rabble of armed peasants seem to be in my way."

Gavinrad narrowed his eyes "So it as Lord Uther thought." he said "You seek to bring back the Necromancer, Kel'thuzad. We will not allow you to."

"You are in no position to deny me entrance." replied Veiled King. "However, I have not interest in a needless battle. Get your forces out of my way, and I will grant you and your men safe passage out of this land. Refuse, and I shall smash your army to pieces, and remove another pillar of humanities presence."

"Your a fool if you believe I would trust your benevolence." replied Gavinrad. "You may take the title of King, yet you are nothing more than a cowardly assassin!"

Beneath his dark veil the Veiled King laughed a coldly.

"You might want to speak more carefully Paladin." he said "You don't seem to understand your position here. Your resistance here is pointless, any damage you do to my army will merely be repaired with the bodies of your soldiers."

"I came to see the man who calls himself the master of Lordaeron." said Gavinrad his voice cold "I find you unworthy for the hangmans noose, much less a throne."

The Veil King snarled, and drew Frostmourne. "You will regret that, Gavinrad."

Gavinrad smiled slightly "The Paladins code teaches one to never regret defying the unrightous. Nor of speaking the truth. Begone, cutthroat, negotiations are over."

He turned and began to walk back to his forces. The Veiled King gritted his teeth in fury, and considered striking him from behind, yet stopped himself. Parley was sacred, after all.

"So be it." he seethed instead "I will let your deaths serve as an example to others, who are foolish enough to tempt my wrath!"

With that, the Veiled King turned his horse round and rode back to his forces, raising Frostmourne to the sky as he rode before them upon his skeletal

"Forth my Warriors! Let them know the might of the scourge! Slaughter all who oppose us! Go forth!"

The undead bayed in joy, and like a great tide they rushed forward, screeching in unholy hunger as the rushed forward, and crashed into Gavirad's shield wall.

The ensuing battle was swift and brutal. Gavirad and his men fought tooth and nail, holding back the tide with iron discipline. until at last the first wave was turned back.

Yet with the next wave came the Veiled King himself, at the head of the formation, at his flanks were Falric and Marwynns and behind them the Death Knights. With the men already tired from battle, Gavinrad's lines were driven in, and the battle became a free for all.

The Paladin himself stood tall, laying about him with his hammer, and inspiring his men to fight all the harder. Yet the Veiled King had a similar effect upon the Ghouls, and so the battle raged on.

...

Marwynn, for his part, was having the time of his life. He struck off an enemies head with his runeblade, and ran another through with his spear, before tossing removing the weapon, and continuing his rampage.

He was unstoppable, he was invincable!

A soldiers blocked his strike with a shield, and counterattacked with his own blade, yet Marwynn simply lapt aside, and drove his spear into the man's undefended flank, and cutting him in half with another blow from his sword.

All around him the blood of countless soldiers, and undead spilled over the field. No order, no ranks. Just bloodshed, and slaughter. He loved it!

Unable to countain his glee any further, Marwyn howled with maniacle laughter, his blood thirsty onslaught driving his enemies before him...

And then he was hit in his shoulder by something heavy, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as he was thrown to the ground, his spear clattering away. He quickly rolled away as a hammer landed where his head had been, and climbed to his feet, blocking a blow from his enemy.

Gavinrad stood before him, a look of fury on his face, as he brought his hammer down again.

Marwynn knocked the blade aside, and struck at his enemy, who jumped back, barely avoiding the tip of the runeblade.

The Death Knight smiled madly. "And here I thought you Paladins believed in fighting fair."

"Be silent monster." replied Gavinrad in a rage "If nothing else, I will destroy you this day, and purge your evil from this word." and he struck again.

"Go can try!" screamed Marwynn sidestepping the attack, and slashing wildly at the Paladin, who parried. Again and again, their weapons clashed, and in a flurry of blows, the Death Knight drove his enemy back, howling with laughter the whole time.

Finally, with particularly violent blow, Marwynn knocked Gavinrad's hammer aside, and dove forward, seeking to drive his blade into the Paladins chest.

Yet Gavinrad raised one hand, and light seemed to pour forth, and then Marwynn wasn't laughing, but rather roaring in pain, as he fell back to the ground, shielding his eyes. The Paldin raised his hammer to finish him...

Then a runeblade was abruptly driven through Gavinrad's heart from behind.

The blade was pulled free, and Gavinrad stumbled forward for a moment, before falling the the ground, dead. Marwynn stood and looked around.

The battle had not become a mop up. What little resistance had remained was now fall apart, their enemies fleeing when they could.

"Who the hell told you to interfere!?" said Marwynnn angrily turning onFalric "I had everything under control!?"

Falric shrugged "I saw an opportunity to stab an enemy in the back, and I took it. Besides, you were losing."

"Why you-"

"Both of you stop arguing" came the voice of the Veiled King, sounding altogether annoyed. "We don't have time for this."

They turned to see him walking forward on foot, his cape swirling behind him.

"...What happened to your horse, milord?" asked Falric.

The Veiled King shrugged, and removed his veil, revealing the normal features of Arthas Menethil. "It's leg got smashed up by Gavinrad, I was going to kill him, but we got seperated in the fray."

"...Oh." said Marwynn. "Should we have moment of silence then."

There was silence for a moment.

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Marwynn." said the Arthas bluntly "A moment of silence for a mindless form of transportation. What kind of pathetic excuse for a Death Knight would get all weepy about a Light forsaken horse."

"...It is a bit ridiculous, isn't it." said Marwynn, laughing nervously. "Sorry, I think I'm a bit lightheaded from my battle with the Paladin."

"I can see that." said Falric. "Now about our mission..."

"I'll deal with it." said Arthas, motioning to the graveyard with one armored hand "You secure the area and I'll secure the remains of everbones favorite Necromancer."

"Of course, milord." said Falric.

...

The graveyard was dead silent. Countless headstones stood forlorn in the fading light, some wooden, some stone. Ordinarily Arthat would have raised them, but he was not in the mood right now. For he was going to bring back Kel'thuzad. One who had once been a great enemy. Sure, his loyalties had changed since then, but something about the whole matter did not sit right with him.

When at last he reached the tomb, he was surprised at how ornate it was. He supposed that the Paladin's must have wanted a defensible buliding, though evodently they hadn't had the opportunity to use it. He moved to the stone doors of the tomb, and shattered them with a single blow from Frostmourne.

"Come along now Necromancer." said Arthas as he walked into the gloom of Kelthuzad's final resting place. "The powers you once served have need of you again."

_"Told you... my death would mean little."_ came a whispering voice, and he looked round the tomb for the source.

"Who goes there!" he called "Show yourself!"

_"It is I, Kel'thuzad." _said the spirit, and suddenly he was there, the ghostly white form of the Necromancer her had faced before. _"I was right about you. Prince Arthas."_

...

**End Chapter Three**

...

Well, there is chapter three. For those of you who don't know, Gavinrad was one of the original Paladins, and I felt that I would give him a bit more screen time. Obviously he does not know that Arthas is the Veiled King, however, so his dialogue had to be differant. I did attempt to make him have some personality, but there is only so much you can do in one scene.

I also tried to establish Falric and Marwynn as actual characters, rather than obligatory cameo number 6#, as they did in Arthas: Rise of the Lich King.

I hope I did a good job.

Oh, and Kel'thuzad will be featuring soon. Horay!

That's all for now.

-Lord22


	4. Tests and technicalities

**Legacy of Damnation:**

**Chapter Four:**

The Ghost of Kel'thuzad looked much the same as he had in life, he had the same graying black beard, and long robes with the emblem of the scourge upon it. The only notable difference was that he was tinted green and transparent.

Ghosts had a tendency to be like that.

"Kel'thuzad." said Arthas cordially. "I see you are already awake from your supposedly eternal rest."

"_Very few things are truly eternal."_ replied Necromancer dryly _"Death is but a door, and time is but a window, and soon I shall be back to my full power."_

There was a pause.

"Have you been practicing that?" asked Arthas bluntly.

"_I have been sitting here, waiting for you to show up for over two months."_ said Ghostly Necromancer _"I've had time."_

"Point taken." said Arthas "In either case, Falric and Marwynn await me. We should probably head out before Falric sends out a search party, or some other nonsense."

"…_I'm afraid I am not familiar with those two." _said Kel'thuzad "Who are they, exactly."

Arthas raised an eyebrow "They are my two most trusted subordinates. They've been with me since… never mind. I don't have time for this. Shouldn't you know of all this, anyway."

Kel'thuzad looked annoyed. _"No, while the influence of the Lich King allows me to maintain my presence here on this plane, Mal'ganis never really supplied with any information after my fall. We didn't get on very well."_

"Well you'll be happy to know that my resignation from the Paladin order came in the form of cutting him in half." said Arthas, finding that his tone was harsher than he had intended. "In any case, I tire of this. Where are your ashes."

Kel'thuzad's spirit pointed over to where

He grabbed the urn in which Kel'thuzad's remains were kept, and turned and left the tomb, pulling his veil over his face.

As he walked, the Necromancers ghost noted the Veil.

"_Tell me, Deathknight" _asked Kel'thuzad _"Why do you wear that veil."_

"Why do you think?" said Arthas "I do not want my face known among the people of Lordaeron."

"_Why not?"_ asked the Necromancer. _"You did not strike me as the sort to hide behind a mask."_

Arthas paused, wondering to himself for the first time just why he had chosen to wear a Veil over his face at all times. He suddenly realized that the decision had been almost unconscious.

Then he remembered. The information came to him suddenly, and it felt somewhat off. Still, it made sense, given what had happened.

"It adds a mythological element to my nature." said Arthas "If I am known as Prince Arthas, the traitor, then I am but a very powerful mortal man. But if I am the Veiled King, then my lack of a known face will make men whisper in fear. Sooner or later, they will believe me far greater than I am, and fear of the enemy may destroy the mightiest of armies."

He paused for a moment in thought, before continuing "You are to address me as the Veiled King, your majesty, or some other title, if you use my true name without my explicit permission, I will personally-"

"You need not concern yourself, Deathknight." said the ghost "None save you can see or hear me anyway. But I shall remember your orders when the time comes that I may interact with others, rest assured."

"Good." said Arthas, before deciding to change the subject. "On a separate note, what position do the Dreadlords occupy in the Scourge."

Kel'thuzad paused "I would tell you, Pr- Veiled King. But such matters are best left for safer area's. It is a very long story, and I do not have time to tell it here. Just be warned that the Dreadlords are not to be trusted."

"Really?" replied Arthas sarcastically. "I thought they had hidden hearts of gold."

It took awhile longer to make their way through the ancient Stones of the graveyard, and Arthas noted that none of the graves in this area were recent.

"I think it likely that they stopped burying the dead here, after I was buried. Doubtless ensure that if I came back from the grave, I could not call up an army immediately." theorized Kel'thuzad.

When they finally reached the main army the Death Knights had begun their work. Many of the bodies had been raised as Ghouls, and Falric appeared to be making arrangements with his fellows."

Then Arthas sighed as he saw Tichondrius up ahead.

"It took you long enough, oh Veiled King." said the Demon sharply, as he took the urn from Arthas' hand.

He glanced into it, with something akin to indifference, before looking up again. "These remains are badly decomposed. They will never survive the trip to Quel'thalas."

"Quel'thalas?" asked Arthas "Why the hell are we going there."

"Because only the energies of the High Elves Sunwell can bring Kel'thuzad back to life."

There was a pause.

"Seriously?" asked Arthas "That's really the best excuse you could come up with. 'We need to corrupt the very source of the High Elves power to resurrect one clever Necromancer who was nevertheless killed rather easily'."

"_Well that's rather uncalled for." _muttered the Kel'thuzad.

"Are you questioning the Lich King?" said Tichondrius, narrowing his eyes.

"No." said Arthas with a smirk "I'm just saying that if you wanted me to burn down Quel'thalas, and wipe out the High Elven race, you could have just asked. You don't need to make absurd claims about Kel'thuzad being powerful, that would just be straining probability."

"_Shut up, with the greatest respect, your majesty." _suggested Kel'thuzad politely.

"Be that as it may, it does not change our current objective." said Tichondrius. "You must retrieve a very special urn from the Paladins keeping. Place the Necromancers remains within, and he will be well protected for the journey."

"Just a thought here?" said Arthas "I could just call for one of the **thousands **of Necromancers at my disposal, and have them make a new urn that **isn't **guarded by an army of Paladins."

"No." said Tichondrius bluntly.

"Why not?" asked Arthas "I don't see what is so wrong with the idea."

"Do you always question the orders of the Lich King?" shot back Tichondrius pointedly.

"…This is another loyalty test isn't it?" said Arthas in annoyance.

"You catch on quick."

"This is absurd." said Arthas bluntly "I have already commited regicide-"

_"-and patricide."_ cut in the ghost of Kel'thuzad.

"-in the Lich Kings name. What more does he want?"

"He wants you to steal the Urn from the Paladins keeping." said Tichodrius with a smile before raising one clawed hand and channeling energy around it. "Now get moving." And then he was gone as a green mist surrounding him. When it faded, Tichondrius was nowhere to be seen. Arthas looked at the spot where he had been a moment ago before sighing.

"…Well isn't he helpful." commented Arthas in an annoyed tone as he watched the Dreadlord go.

"_What do you expect, he's a Dreadlord. Paranoia is a way of life for him."_ said Kel'thuzad.

"...You know, I think I would rather enjoy putting Frostmourne through his throat." muttered Arthas "I expect it would be theraputic."

The Ghost of Kel'thuzad smirked. _"Well let us hope you get the chance."_

"Hey, Veiled!" came a cry from behind him, causing Arthas to tense up and put his hand to Frostmourne as he turned round. "Who dare- Marwynn!

Marwynn was walking over from, twirling his spear absently with one hand. "Hey, I've been sent over to tell you that just finished raising the bodies into our new army and-."

He noticed that Arthas was glaring at him. He stopped spinning his spear and planted it in the the ground. "Alright, what did I do?" he asked.

"Marwynn, I called myself the Veiled King to create the impression of being an unstoppable force that no mortal man may stop. I did **not **do it so you could make up stupid nicknames." said Arthas please.

"Oh come on, ''The Veiled King' is really awkward to say in common conversation. Kind of like a High Elven name." he hesitated "Actually never mind, that's a bit of an unfair comparison. Nothing is more annoying to hear than one of arrogant fools introducing us."

"Fine. Whatever. I'm going to overlook it this time because you are a loyal subordinate." said Arthas "Just a fair warning though, if you call me 'Veiled' again, I'm going to break your arm."

"Okay, okay, sheesh." said Marwynn, beginning to twirl his speak absently "I won't do it again. Sorry."

"That's alright." asked Arthas, before suddenly finding himself curious about something Marwynn had said "If you don't mind me asking, what do you have against Elves?"

Marwynn laughed a high pitched tone before looking up. "Oh, your serious. Well, aside from the fact that they are an entire race of arrogant blowhards who refused to send any forces to the Alliance, then had the nerve to bitch and moan about how they didn't get enough help against the Orcs..." he paused as if in thought "How about the fact that their language is a needlessly complicated mess which linguists have nightmares about having to translate."

"How would you know?" asked Arthas bluntly.

"My father was one."

"...Marwynn, your not a half elf. Unless your father was capable of casting a permenant polymorph spell..."

"Of course not! Even I know those don't exist." said Marwynn quickly. "I meant my father was a linguist."

"…Really?" said Arthas in surprise, as he had the mental picture of a bloodstained Marwynn teaching a group of school children and tried not to chuckle.

"Oh yes." said Marwynn his voice annoyed "See, this was back when the most we knew about the Elves were that they were 'mysterious', and my dad was facinated by it. I spent years learning the language, and grew to hate it. To this day if I hear too many words with pointless apostrophes in it, I'm liable to snap." he sighed "I wanted to be a soldier, and we argued a lot. He kept on telling me that the military was a waste of my intelligence."

"Interesting..." said Arthas "So you joined the military because you wanted to prove him wrong?"

Marwynn's expression grew dark "No. I joined the military because a group of Blackrock Blademaster showed up at my house and brutally murdered my family. Survived by hiding in a managed to catch their leaders name. He was called Jubei'thos, or some such. Either way, after they I was found by a group of Alliance soldiers. After that I lived in Harthglen, and joined the guard when I came of age." he sighed "I occasionally fantasized about killing the him, the Orc responsible, but I knew I would probably get the chance."

"And then plague happened." said Arthas quietly. It was not a question.

"Quite." said Marwynn, before falling silent, and lowering his head in thought. "It's odd. When you first came to Harthglen, I'd broken another man's leg in a fight, another man's wrist when he tried to pick a fight with me. I was denied rations for a few days as punishment, while he got off scot free. I remember I was incredibly angry about the whole thing at the time. Now... I owe that man my life, such as it is, because if I hadn't broken his wrist you and your men would have to put me down like everyone else in the garrison. I never would have met Falric, or you. Some would say things like that are the work of destiny. But I don't really like the idea of some distant figure pulling on my strings like a puppet." A somber silence fell over them both. Arthas did not know why, but he found something about Marwynn's statement oddly chilling, though he could not figure out what it was.

"You know, I don't remember how my father's death." said Arthas suddenly, looking to change the subject "It's quite odd. I remembr the events leading up to it, and I remember what happened afterwards, but as soon as I enter the throne room I draw a blank. It's like the memory is just out of reach, and sometimes I feel like I almost have it, but I can never quite grasp it. It is... disconcerting."

Marwynn opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. They stood there, in silent reflection for a while. There wasn't much more to say, and neither felt any particular desire to speak of it anyway.

"In any case." Arthas stated at last "Tichondrius must has oredered us to retrieve an urn from the keeping of the Paladins. So I want you to tell Falric and his men to make haste back to Lordaeron city."

"…Are we disobeying orders, sir?" asked Marwynn, raising an eyebrow.

"No." said Arthas "We are misinterpreting them in a fashion that achieves our objective while annoying Tichondrius. We're going to take the Urn by stealth, and spill as little blood as possible. I won't be yanked around by his whims."

Marwynn sighed dramatically "Must we, milord? I was hoping to get a chance to kill another Paladin.

"Falric killed Gavinrad." said Arthas bluntly "And my decision is made. I don't want to confront an army of Paladins if I don't have."

"We'll have to wipe them out sometime, though." pointed out Marwynn

"I suppose so." said Arthas with a sigh. "But I do not want to do that until **after** Uther has been killed. He's dangerous enough without an army to back him up."

"…You seem very concerned about fighting Uther." observed Marwynn, and his voice took on a serious tone. "Do you believe you'll hesitate to strike him down when the chance comes?"

"Don't misunderstand me." said Arthas, narrowing his eyes in warning. "Uther is the greatest of the Order, and I will not lightly engage him." he paused "Yet this is hardly relevant. Pick your men, and let us be off."

"Alright then. But Falric isn't going to like this plan at all."

"Falric thought my plan to invade Northrend was fine. He won't object to this one."

...

"This the most insane idea you have ever come up with!" said Falric in undisguised frustration. "Even your plan to invade Northrend made a good deal more sense!"

"Shut up Marwynn." said Arthas, drawing Frostmourne for emphisis as the younger Death Knight opened his mouth. After Marwynn shut his mouth, Arthas turned back to Falric "And I thought that you supported my plan to invade Northrend."

"I did." replied Falric "I also thought it was the most reckless thing I had ever heard in my life. It's just that unlike Lord Uther, I don't ignore my superiors orders just because I disagree with them. I would have told you that it was a fools errand, but you were unstable enough at the time, and you might have interpreted that as a betrayal. Also, I was fully aware that if Ms Proudmoore couldn't convince you to not invade the coldest continent on the planet without more than a few weeks preperation, that any attempt I made would have been beyond pointless."

"Are you saying that you knew we were going to fail?" asked Arthas, motioning with one hand to call forth his horse.

"If you want to get technical, we did kill Mal'ganis." replied Falric soberly "But to answer your question, no. But while I didn't **know** that we were going to fail, I found our survival a rather unlikely event. But that didn't matter in the slightest then, and it doesn't matter now. I am the head of your Royal guard, it was a position I fought tooth and nail to earn, and I have fought tooth and nail since to prove worthy of the trust you placed in me. And I will be damned before I abandon my duties just to save my own life."

Arthas felt a surge of emotion at his friends words "Thank you Falric." he stated genuinely, before he ran one hand through his white hair. "You must understand, I need your skills to organize the invasion force. The cultists have no idea what they are doing when it comes to strategic matters, and Marwynn would have the whole city on fire by the end of the week."

"He's not **that** incompetant." maintained Falric, his eyes narrowing.

"Certainly not!" said Marwynn happily "I probably could run the place if I wanted to. I just don't want to. I far prefer making use of ability to crush bones and kill anything that bleeds."

"-Which is why Marwynn is going with me." finished Arthas "If it comes to a fight, he'll be quite useful. While your organization skills far exceed his. Don't worry, this errand take long. And I certainly don't intend to start any fights if I can avoid it."

"...Very well then, milord." said Falric, his voice reluctant. "Be careful."

His mode of transit arrived, and Arthas sheathed Frostmourne, before pulling himself up onto the saddle, and looking down.

"You too, my friend." said Arthas "Have the army make ready to assault Quel'thalas when I return. Hold the fronts, but don't start any unnecassary battles. I don't want us wasting manpower on refugee's who will probably starve in a few weeks, and aren't a threat anyway."

"Of course Milord." said Falric dutifully. "Fairwell, and may light watch over you." Falric stated the ancient proverb unconsciously, and he quickly stuttered. "I... what I mean to say is..."

"Don't worry about it. It's just a habit we need to break." said Arthas with a laugh, though inwardly he felt a differant pang of emotion as he heard Falric say that. Something rather like nostalgia, but-

He shook his head to drown out the thoughts. "In any case, I expect the forces of light will see me either way. The only question is whether they will be sensible and flee at my approach."

And before any more words could be said,he turned his mount round and urged it forward, riding down the path, while his four Death Knights following him a moment later. Though the skeletal hoofbeats of his steed suddenly seemed strangely hollow, Arthas did not look back until long after he had departed.

_"You seem distracted, Death Knight."_ Kel'thuzad's voice reminded him. _"You should focus upon our objective."_

"I am focused."replied Arthas bluntly "I don't need you reminding me of it."

"Sorry Milord, I didn't hear you?" said one of the Death Knights. "Can I aid you."

"What?" he said, looking up at one of his death knights "No." he replied. He looked at the man for a moment as they moved onward. He thought he recognized him from Northrend, though he could not quite remember the mans name. He was certain, however, that he had been among those who had followed him to that icy land, and never returned.

_Leave it be Arthas. Forget this business, and lead your men home._

The memory of Muradin Bronzebeards last words to him came to mind suddenly, and for a moment Arthas felt as though he was still in that Icy vault, in which he had claimed Frostmourne, ignoring the warnings of both it's guardian and Muradin in the process, and thereby leading to both their deaths. Dimly he wondered who the Guardian had been, and why it had sought to guard the blade. And come to think of it, why would the Lich King have set up the blade in so heavily guarded a place, even going so far as to write a warning upon it. And in all his time, he had never seen any form of undead like the creature.

Physically it had appeared like a revenant, yet it's power was far greater than any other Arthas had encountered, and it had seemed almost well intentioned. To be sure it raised countless questions about Frostmournes true origins.

Yet Muradin was dead, struck down by a shard of ice that had been all too well aimed to be coincidence. The Guardian of the Sword was destroyed, cut down even as it had tried to warn him away with it's dying breath. And Arthas was no longer within the vault, not matter what he might have done differantly.

Now all that remained from that moment was the blade at his side, and the wielding of it against his enemies. Whoever they might be.

"No one can..." he murmured in a voice that only he heard.

A few minutes later, Arthas became aware that Marwynn was speaking to him.

"My King, are you alright?" he asked. "You been very quiet, and it's honestly rather disturbing."

"What?" he said with a start. "Uh... yes. I am quite well. I was just thinking about something."

"What was so facinating?"

Arthas paused for a moment. "You know, I can't quite remember. I feel like it's right within my grasp but..." he stopped suddenly. "It just slips away."

He did not speak again for quite some time.

...

**End Chapter Four**

...

**Authors note: **Well, here we are, Chapter four. Yes, I know that it wasn't particularly action packer, but there were quite a few scenes I needed to get done. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it.


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